PS 3513 
.P298 
C8 

1919 
Copy 1 



This Crimson Flower 




^D- 



Y IN FLANDERS FIELDS 

AN ANSWER 



/•-'O 



\l' 




and 

OTHER VERSE 



By C. B. GALBREATH 



V 8* 



m 



THIS CRIMSON FLOWER 
IN FLANDERS FIELDS 

An Anszver 
and 

Other Verse 



BY C. B. GALBREATH 




STONEMAN PRESS 

Columbus, O. 

December, 1919. 






Copyrighted by 
\ C. B. GALBREATH 
1919 



DtC 27 1919 



C1A580369 



n^o [ 



CONTE NTS 

PAGE 

This Crimson Flower 5 

In Flanders Fields 6 

In Flanders Fields — An Answer 7 

In Flanders Field — Victores Requiescunt 8 

In Picardy 9 

The Wounds of War 9 

They Go To End War 10 

Arise, America 12 

In the Glory of Their Years 13 

Private Frederick Bunn 15 

Nasturtiums 30 

Jerusalem 32 

United As Never Before 33 

Our Stars 34 

Arise, Ye Dead 36 

Through London Town 38 

Autumn Leaves 42 

Welcome to Our Ace of Aces 43 

Welcome to Twelfth Regiment of Engineers.. 45 

Converted 46 

Morning Glories - 48 

Fragrance of Apple Bloom 49 

Prepare for the Harvest 51 

To a Robin 53 

"Life-Everlasting" 55 

Autumn Afternoon.... 56 

Echo Vale 58 

The Violet 59 



[3] 



NOTE 

SOME of the verse on the following pages 
first appeared in print in The Ohio Educa- 
tional Monthly, The Columbus Citizen, The 
Columbus Evening Dispatch, The Ohio State 
Journal, The St. Louis Globe Democrat, TTie St. 
Louis Republic and the Kit Kat, a magazine pub- 
lished by the Kit Kat Club of Columbus, Ohio. 

The answer to Lieut. Col. McCrae's "In 
Flanders Fields" has been copied by newspapers 
and other publications in every section of the United 
States and Canada. The literary editor of the 
New York Times said in November, 1918, that 
it was the best known of all "answers." A. W. 
Perry and Sons, Sedalia, Mo., have published it 
with music by Mrs. M. Laughlin, of Kansas City, 
Mo. The two poems have recently been brought 
out by the John Church Company, Cincinnati, New 
York and London, with music by the well known 
composer. Mentor Crosse. "They Go to End 
War" has been published by The Willis Music 
Company, of Cincinnati, with music by A. J. 
Gantvoort, director of the College of Music in 
that city. "Prepare for the Harvest," with music 
by A. R. Martin, was published in "Convention 
Carols:' 1880. 



[4] 



THIS CRIMSON FLOWER 

THE POPPY 

This crimson flower shall ever tell 
Of those who triumphed as they fell, 

Who sleep at peace all dreamlessly; 

This flower shall fit memento be 
For those whose days were ended well. 

To lowly mansions where they dwell 
Love brings the rose and immortelle. 
But bears away o'er land and sea 
This crimson flower. 

The cheers of victors over-swell 
The martial dirge and tolling bell, 

While blows their flower, who kept us free; 

Nor bloom from blest Elysian lea 
Shall match, in sweet Lethean spell. 
This crimson flower! 



[5] 



IN FLANDERS FIELDS 

BY LIEUT.-COL. JOHN McCRAE 

In Flanders fields the poppies blow 

Bettpeen the crosses, roiv on rorv. 
That mark our place; and in the s^]j 
The larks, still hravel}) singing, fi^. 

Scarce heard amid the guns foeioD?. 

We are the dead. Short days ago 
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow. 
Loved and were loved; and now we lie 
In Flanders fields. 

Take up our quarrel with the foe! 
To you, from failing hands, we throw 
The torch. Be yours to hold it high! 
If ye break faith with us who die. 
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow 
In Flanders fields. 

— London Punch, 



NOTE. A manuscript copy of the above has "grow" at 
the end of the first as well as at the end of next to the last 
line. 



[6] 



IN FLANDERS FIELDS 

AN ANSWER 

In Flanders fields the cannon boom 
And fitful fiashes light the gloom. 
While up above, like eagles, fly 
The fierce destroyers of the sky; 
With stains the earth wherein you lie 
Is redder than the poppy bloom. 
In Flanders fields. 

Sleep on, ye brave. The shrieking shell, 
The quaking trench, the starded yell. 
The fury of the battle hell 
Shall wake you not; for all is well. 
Sleep peacefully; for all is well. 

Your flcmiing torch aloft we bear. 
With burning heart an oath we swear 
To keep the faith, to fight it through 
To crush the foe or sleep with you 
In Flanders fields. 



February 10, 1918. 

[7] 



IN FLANDERS FIELDS 

VICTORES REQUIESCUNT 

In Flanders fields the winds are low. 
On high the shadowy scud clouds go, 
While gently falls the silent snow; 

And crosses stretch their arms of white 

Above a welcome robe of light 
In Flanders fields. 

The war-worn world has found release. 
And in this chaste and hallowed bed 
Serenely sleep the martyred dead. 

While falls the benison of peace 
In Flanders fields. 

Sleep, victors, sleep when falls the snow. 
When spring returns, when poppies blow; 
Our legions heard your mute appeal. 
They kept the faith through fire and steeU 
And when the battle flags were furled 
Your torch illumined all the world 
From Flanders fields. 



November 27, 1918. 

[8] 



IN PICARDY 

In Picardy the mists of dawn 

Were heavy as the veil of night,* 
And in their folds they hid from sight 

The foe in silence sweeping on. 

When thunder-struck, their trenches gone, 
The British hosts were forced to flight. 

In Picardy the mists of dawn 
Were heavy as the veil of night. 

The foe, by lure of triumph drawn. 
Poured forth the flower of his might 
And won a fateful Pyrrhic light. 

The Kaiser learned for him anon 

In Picardy the mists of dawn 
Were heavy as the veil of night. 

THE WOUNDS OF WAR 

The wounds of war are slow to heal. 
Though fires of battle burn no more 
Nor cannon ope with thunder peal 
The wounds of war. 

Wild vines and flowers clamber o'er 

TTie shards of shell and rusting steel 
And Nature would her sway restore. 

But poppies set a crimson seal 

Round shell pit marge, by trenches hoar.f 
And long the riven earth shall feel 
The wounds of war. 



*A dense fog contributed much to the initial success of 
the Germans in their great March offensive, 1918. 

■fA soldier who served two summers in northern France 
Bays : "The red poppy was everywhere, but its bloom was 
especially rich around old sheel holes and along abandoned 
trenches." 

[91 



THEY GO TO END WAR 

With head erect and elastic step - 

Our soldiers are marching by; 
With heart athrob to a great intent 

And spirit elate and high, 
For they go to fight for the end of war 
And the reign of peace forevermore. 

TTiey seek not the battle's wreck and spoil 

Or an autocratic state; 
They seek not a sister nation's harm 

And they sing not the song of hate, 
For they go to fight for the end of war 
And the reign of peace forevermore. 

TTiey strike for imperiled Liberty 

And her violated shrine; 
They strike for oppressed humanity 

And a cause that is divine. 
For they go to fight for the end of war 
And the reign of peace forevermore. 

They go to the rescue of valiant France, 

In the spirit of Lafayette; 
And large is their debt to a bleeding world, 

A debt that they will not forget. 
For they go to fight for the end of war 
And the reign of peace forevermore. 

[10] 



On the reeking front of the blazing field 

They shall not battle in vain; 
They cannot fail in a righteous cause, 

Tliough they fall with the mangled slain. 
For they go to fight for the end of war 
And the reign of peace forevermore. 

A grateful world will applaud their deeds. 
With paeans of praise and cheers; 

And the god of battle will wake no more 
Through the tranquil march of the years; 

They will win the fight for the end of war 

And the reign of i>eace forevermore. 



December, 1917. 

[11] 



ARISE. AMERICA 

Arise, America, arise! 
The Foe his desperate challenge flings. 
With deadly strife the welkin rings. 
The world in fateful balance swings. 

Arise, America, arise 

And smite Oppression till it dies. 

Arise, America, arise! 
In ruins are the shrines of Worth, 
A monstrous Thing is given birth 
And Murder stalks one-half the earth. 

Arise, America, arise ! 

And bruise the Reptile till it dies. 

Arise, America, arise ! 
And thrust aside this evil Chance; 
With cannon, plane and rifle-lance. 
Strike for the Cause and bleeding France. 

Arise, America, advance 

With all who fight for gallant France. 

Arise, America, arise! 
And break the arm of brutal might. 
And rend this ebon veil of night. 
And flood the world again with light. 

Arise, America, arise ! 

And strike for Truth that never dies. 

March 31, 1918. 

[12] 



IN THE GLORY OF THEIR YEARS 

DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF 
SERGEANT E. GRAY SWINGLE* 

At the zenith of the summer. 

Ere the reaper's work was done. 
Land and sea afar they traversed 

Toward the rising of the sun; 
And our war afflicted aUies 

Welcomed them with grateful cheers. 
As they marched to Armageddon, f 

In the glory of their years. 

In the pride of knightly manhood. 

In the bloom of youth and might. 
Freedom's brawny, lithe crusaders 

Went to battle for the right. 
Fire and steel and cannon's clamor 

Shook them not with craven fears. 
As they fought at Armageddon, 

In the glory of their years. 



•Sergeant E. Gray Swingle, of Newark, Ohio, Company 
B. Sixth Regiment, U. S. Engineers, was fatally wounded 
on the Western Front in the great German offensive, on the 
night of March 27, 1918, while leading a patrol in "no 
man's land." On the morning of the following day, while 
still under the guns of the enemy, with life ebbing rapidly 
away as he lay on the ground, he signaled back, by waving 
his hand, to British officers, information of great value. 
Soon afterward he ceased to move. For this heroism, even 
unto death, he was awarded the distinguished service cross. 

Much credit was given by British officers to the American 
Engineers, who, in this drive as at Cambrai in November of 
the previous year, "dropped their shovels and picks, grasped 
their guns and helped to stay the on-coming foe." 

tArmajreddon — The last great battle of the world, in which 
the righteous shall overthrow the powers of darkness. (Rev- 
elations, 16:12-16). The World War and sometimes the 
German offensive which began March 21, 1918, have been 
referred to as "Armageddon." 



[13] 



And the Briton praised their valor 

When the fateful storm was high. 
When the charging legions thundered 

And the squadrons swept the sky. 
In the fury of the tempest 

Stood our dauntless engineers, — 
Thus they fought at Armageddon, 

In the glory of their years. 

Some are numbered with the missing; 

Though their gallcuit strife is o'er. 
In the nation's heart and annals. 

They will live forevermore. 
Love and pride assuage our sorrow 

And repress the welling tears. 
For they fell at Armageddon, 

In the glory of their years. 



[14] 



PRIVATE FREDERICK BUNN 

I 

His father died in years agone; 

He was his mother's only son ; 
A comely youth, well built and tall. 

Was genial Frederick Bunn.* 

In sterling traits he differed not 

From other lads with slight alloy. 
And every neighborhood has known 

Just such a worthy boy. 

II 

Far, far away, beyond the sea there rose 

A threatening cloud with gathered wrath in store, 

TTie world from dreams of peace and sweet repose 
Was rudely wakened by the bolts of war. 

The cloud grew darker as it loomed more vast 
And cast its shadow o'er our tranquil sky; 

But Statecraft sought to stem the rising blast, [by. 
While Faith prayed that this cup might pass us 

Then burst the storm, and every day that dawned 
Saw Mars enthroned amid the martial din; 

Throughout the world a mighty chasm yawned. 
And knights by millions rose to close it in ! 



*See note at close of this tribute. 

[15] 



Ill 

The call of country stirred the soul 

And set its latent fires aglow, 
While Peace put on the mail of War 

And marched to meet the foe. 

He did not shirk, he did not quail. 

Although his answer to the call 
Meant that a mother, e'en as he. 

Had heard and given all. 

Among the volunteer Marines, 

He went — this modest patriot son, 

For every inch American 

Was Private Frederick Bunn. 

IV 

Over the sea, over the sea. 

Soldier, the bugle is calling for thee. 

The Allied comrades have waited long; 

They will welcome thee with a stirring song, 
Over the sea, over the sea! 

Up in the sky, up in the sky. 

Soldier, the eagles of Liberty fly; 

They lead in the way thy legions shall go 
To shatter the might of the oncoming foe; 

Up in the sky, up in the sky ! 

[16] 



Over the plain, over the plain. 

Where falleth the shower of crimson rain. 

Where the shells puff clouds into daylight fair 
And the night gloweth wan 'neath the ghostly 
flare; 
Over the plain, over the plain ! 

True to the call, true to the call. 

This is the greatest adventure of all, — 

To bring to the altars that now arise 

A share of redeeming sacrifice; 
True to the call, true to the call ! 

Over the sea, over the sea. 

That shall bring thee back to the Land of the Free 
Or bear thee on by the Vale of Distress 
To the shores of a sweet Forget fulness. 

Over the sea, over the sea! 

V 

Beneath a dark and wintry sky. 

With snow-clad plains of broad expanse. 

The coming soldiers could not hope 
To find a sunny Fremce. 

But cheers of gratitude arise 

From city street and village lane 
To warm responsive hearts that soon 

Forget the mire and rain. 

[17] 



Now comes the magic-working Spring 
With all her resurrecting powers 

And strews across the waste of War 
A wilderness of flowers. 

A cloudness morn, a sunny France, 

A respite for a fleeting day. 
Call forth a message of the heart 

To one now far away: 

VI 

"The flowers of spring are here, mother, 

In the fields and by the way; 
Messages they bring of cheer, mother. 

And my heart is glad today. 
The balmy breeze on wings of fragrance 

Bears me back to long ago. 
And the cannon in the distance 

Seems to mutter faint and low. 

"The well remembered hours, mother, 

Come as in a blessed dream. 
When we gathered early flowers, mother. 

In the meadow by the stream ; 
And the skies that bent above us 

Were so tranquil, deep and blue; 
Tenderly I view these blossoms 

And I long for home and you." 

[18] 



VII 

The days of war are anxious days; 

Each soldier when he fares away, 
Is followed by the hopes and fears 

Of those who wait and pray. 

Think of some lad that you have known, 
Scarce noticed in the days of yore. 

The center of concern in arms 
Upon a foreign shore; 

Then think of millions in the camps 
And other millions over there. 

And measure, if you can, in weight 
The mountian load of care. 

That burdens down a world at war 
On trembling earth and ocean foam; 

The blow that strikes the battle line 
Will reach the brave at home. 

The soldier in a distant land. 

Mid cheering scenes and dangers grave, 
Thinks of the dread of one at home 

And writes her to be brave: 

"Mother, be brave; 
It is well with me ; have never a fear. 
And feel it is best that your boy is here. 

[19] 



Think what the mothers of France have come 

through. 
The mothers of England and Germany too; 
The dread of all mothers, their grief and their pain. 
We fight that they never may know it again. 
At the call of the helpless our ranks shall be strong 
And the prayer of all mothers be answered ere long. 

Mother, be brave." 

IX 

All eyes are on the Western Front; 

Where comes the foe in pride of might. 
Prodigious grown by barter with 

The Judas Muscovite. 

The shock of Armageddon wakes 

An Allied world to dread amaze; 
The British yield in Picardy, — 

Ah, those were anxious days. 

They yield, but hold their wavering line; 

The ghastly wreckage in their wake 
Makes this the first of reeking fields; 

They bend but do not break. 

But who shall stay from victory 

The mighty flood now rolling on? 
What pMDwer shall break the gathering gloom 

With streaks of coming dawn? 

[20] 



X 

A land of level tracts and gentle slopes, 
Of streams and meadows green and waving grain. 
Where nature crowns the peasant's toil and hopes — 
A fruitful land, the valley of the Aisne; 
And farther south in undulating plain 
The little city all the world now knows. 
The birthplace of the gifted La Fontaine, 
But half forgotten till invaders rose 
And smote the walls by which the Marne serenely 
flows. 

Chateau-Thierry ! war-shattered from the North 
When came the foe with desolating stride 
And Allied nations pujured their legions forth 
To stay the Kaiser at his crest of pride. 
His vulture squadrons rained destruction wide 
While guns by thousands struck the thunder stroke ; 
On rolled in ruthless might the Teuton tide 
In waves of gray amid the mist and smoke — 
On surged the flood against a living wall — and 
broke ; 

A living wall of knights in khaki clad. 

And helmeted without a star or plume 

Or epaulette or bar, but proudly glad 

To stand for country in the grime and gloom. 

While shook the earth with an incessant boom 

To which the thunder were an echo; then, 

[211 



As open seemed to swing the gates of doom. 
The foe in desperation hurled his men. 
Who fought like baffled gods, and charged, and 
charged again; 

But charged in vain; the shattered ranks recede 
Amid confusion dire and wild uproar. 
At every trench the Allied legions bleed; 
And now in turn they strike, and swarming o'er 
The slippery top, sweep everything before; 
Though fiercely still the fires of carnage burn, 
Fate strikes the hour, — and on his throne no more 
Shall Might the claim of Mercy scoff and spurn; 
Again behold the world with tide of battle turn. 

Chateau-Thierry! for coming range of time 
On history's page a name the world shall view 
Pivotal, as immortal and sublime 
As Marathon or Tours or Waterloo. 
Among the brave who bore their standards through 
The rain of death, were some who bore the scars 
Of other fields where bolts as blasting flew. 
Some came from shores beyond the sunset bars 
And sealed their faith with blood beneath the 
stripes and stars. 

The storm of battle echoes here no more. 
Nor fans the trenches to a lurid glow; 
Nor fitful flash nor cannon's sullen roar 

[22] 



Disturbs the shadows of the old chateau 
Where sleep again the ghosts of long ago, 
Roused by the earthquake from their slumbers deep 
Of centuries, yon ruined arch below; 
But younger spirits, loth as yet to sleep. 
Stand guard upon the hill and phantom vigils 
keep. 

XI 

With what a thrill we heard the news. 
Through darkness saw a cheering ray; 

Our brave Marines were in the lines 
That held the foe at bay. 

But with relief and joy and pride 

The notes of doubt and sadness blend; 

"Who fell?" — the question on the lip 
Of lover, parent, friend. 

And was he there? Ah, yes, and lives; 

To perish here was not his fate; 
A letter came from him at last 

That bore a later date. 

As tides that earthquakes roll to sea 
Will soon return to smite the shore. 

So comes again the foe to charge 
As fiercely as before. 

[23] 



XII 

The golden grain near old Sois:ons 
In fields for centuries has grown 

And ripened in the sun and rain; 

Those drops that left a crimson stain 
Enriched the earth where seed was sown. 

The peasant girls and birds have flown; 
The noxious winds have rudely blown 
And searched with hidden shafts of pain 
The golden grain. 

On rigid wing the eagles drone; 
The cannon speaks in thunder tone 

And shrieks the shell a weird refrain; 

The Harvester in ranks of slain 
Has reaped and garnered as his own 
The golden grain! 

XIII 

The days of July pass away. 

Those history making days, 
With victories for Foch and Haig, 

And Yankees winning praise. 

Hurrah for Pershing and his men! 

The generals and doughboys too, 
For all who blazed for liberty 

An open pathway through. 

[24] 



XIV 

We cheer the men who lead 
In camp or field of action dire. 
Whose lofty bearing doth inspire 
The hosts as one to face the fire 
And steel and storm; at whose command 
The tide is turned on sea and land — 

Cheers for the men who lead. 

The private soldiers cheer; 
WTio wrought and fought with courage fine 
And charged the bristling battle line; 
For them a wreath of laurel twine. 
Who went with faith and purpose high 
In freedom's cause to win or die; 

The private soldiers cheer. 

The man who leads we cheer; 

The private soldier too; 
For country on a foreign shore 
They bore the brunt and scourge of war 
That p>eace might reign forevermore ; 
The leader hath his bars and stars 
And both have had the moil and scars; 

The leader cheer, it is his due. 

And cheer, a little louder cheer 
The private soldier too. 



[25] 



XV 

The summer days are measured long 
From streaks of dawn to sunset rays; 

But in the court of Mirth and Joy 
How short are summer days. 

To her who waits word from her son. 

What were the cheers and stirring song? 

Her thoughts and dreams are of the war; 
To her all days are long. 

TTie summer time at length is gone; 

Along the woods the tints appear 
Which tell, with breezes light and cool, 

That autumn days are here. 

The elms have doffed their robes of gold. 
The wind is sighing at the eaves. 

The gusts have scattered on the waste 
November's withered leaves. 

Hark! breaks the joy of clanging bells, 
And whistles shriek, the war is won; 

The surging throngs shout "Victory!" 
But where is Frederick Bunn? 

A missing soldier will not count 

WTiere millions from the battle go, 

[26] 



When peace rings from the Christmas bells 
And robes the earth with snow. 

No word comes from the prison camp 

Or hospital or river red; 
The casual list bears not his name 

As missing or as dead. 

Perhaps in some volcanic charge 

This youth was smitten blind; 
Perhaps, shocked by a monstrous shell. 

He reeled and lost his mind. 

Perhaps the foe his prison guards. 
Forbids that he should write a line; 

Perhaps — but all surmise is vain — 
The silence gives no sign. 

The New Year comes; a month drags by; 

The south wind harbingers the spring; 
The quest at last is at an end. 

The wires this message bring: 

XVI 

"Your son is dead, we regret to tell; 

It was thought that you had known. 
With his face to the foe he bravely fell 

In a wheat field near Soissons." 

[27] 



XVII 

Bravely beautiful is Spring, 

Life and love with courage roam. 

Bravely beautiful is Spring 

When she brings the soldiers home. 

Sadly beautiful is Spring 

When her cheek the rain drops lave; 
For her tears no word can bring 

From the "unreturning brave." 



XVIII 

The drum and fife are passing by; 
A remnant leads the grand review 
Who wore, as still they wear, the blue 

And kept Old Glory in the sky. 

Behind the Old Guard come the men 
With helmets grim and bristling steel. 
Elate and fit from head to heel. 

Our young crusaders home again. 

I watch them pass and I would fain 
Believe the past an evil dream 
And see beneath some helmet beam 

His genial face; I look in vain! 

[28] 



He will not come to greet me here; 

Though bands their stirring numbers play, 
My thoughts are with him far away; 

I sigh and half forget to cheer. 

But when I feel his spirit near, 
I sway with music of the band, 
And I applaud with voice and hand 

As would my friend if he were here. 



♦Private Frederick J. Bunn volunteered from Columbus, 
Ohio, in the Ninety-seventh Company, Sixth Regiment, U. S. 
Marines. He left the United States late in 1917, was 
gassed the following May, recovered and continued in ac- 
tive service until the time of his death. At the battle of 
Soissons, while advancing through a field of uncut wheat, 
July 19, 1918, he was mortally wounded by a high explosive 
shell. 

The record of his army life is the connecting thread of 
the foregoing "tribute," which was read at the memorial 
service in honor of his memory in Hopewell Church near 
Groveport, Ohio, August 10, 1919. 

Chateau Thierry and Soissons will, for all time, be joined 
with the fame of the American Marines. 



[29] 



NASTURTIUMS 

I think sometimes of a soldier lad 
And a flower with a leaf like a lily pad 
But smaller; a-nod in the breezes pure 
Like a lily pad in miniature. 

When Summer gathers her golden sheaves, 
From the lowly clusters of rotate leaves 
Rise the drooping buds on their stemlets slight, 
And a riot of color unfolds to the light; 

A wealth of the tints of the citrus fruit 
And markings that speak from throats that are mute. 
From a creamy shade to the darker, down 
Through yellow and gold and pink and brovsTi. 

But why should I link the soldier lad 

And the flower with a leaf like the lily pad? 

For he is sturdy and lithe and tall 

And by shifting breezes is swayed not at all. 

I will tell you why. On a July night 
When trains were speeding in secret flight 
To bear our lads to the ocean shore 
To answer their country's call to war, 

I gathered a handful of choicest bloom 

And wended my way through the midnight gloom 

[30] 



To the railway station, lonely and dim. 

Where the train pulled in with the warriors grim. 

And the soldier lad — he met me there. 

And he talked awhile with the old-time air. 

And he took this colorful gift of mine 

With a smile as he said,"Thank'e dad; that's fine." 

A wave of the hand from the moving train 
As it thundered into the night again; 
Into darkness plunged with a shriek and a roar 
And echoed back, "We are off for the war." 

When for me the war is a tale that is told. 
Still from lily pad leaflets the flowers of gold 
Will speak, as they ope to the warm sunshine, 
In a voice that I know, "Thank'e dad; that's fine." 



[31] 



JERUSALEM 

Out of the deep, dark cloud uf war 
That mantles the closing year, 

A light is breaking athwart the East — 
A carol of hop>e we hear. 

Chorus : 

Over the Holy Sepulcher, 

Over the sainted graves. 
Over the walls of Jerusalem 

The banner of freedom waves. 

Here is the end of the last crusade. 

The dawn of a better day; 
The night of the reign of the cruel Turk 

Is passing forever away. 

Soon on the battle's red front no more 
Shall the sullen cannon boom. 

While through the valley again as of yore 
The lilies of peace shall bloom. 



December 31. 1917. 

[32] 



UNITED AS NEVER BEFORE 

From the lakes to the gulf, from the river that binds 

The North and the South forever as one. 
From the shores of Maine to the Golden Gate 

Where the day burns out in the setting sun; 
From Alaska's peaks and our isles of the main 

Where the palm trees wave and the billows roar, 
A nation exults in a mighty refrain — 

"United as never before." 

The flag is out and our spirits are high. 

The eye is agleam and the heart is athrill. 
For the khaki-clad boys are marching by 

To the call of the bugle, clear and shrill. 
From the Lake of the Woods to the Florida Keys 

They sing, as they go to the great World War, 
In a chorus that swells on the summer breeze — 

"United as never before." 

Hurrah for the boys in the olive drab; 

The torch that they follow across the sea 
Will blaze anew with a brighter flame — 

The flame of a world-wide liberty. 
And hurrah and hurrah for the boys in blue 

That united we fight, if we needs must war; 
In their footsteps we follow as loyal and true, 

"United as never before." 

May 30, 1918. 

[33] 



OUR STARS* 

On our quiet village church, 

Fades the light from sunset bars; 
Overhead the tranquil night 

Spreads her canopy of stars. 
In this humble, sacred fane. 

With the hands of faith and love. 
Here we consecrate our flag 

With its stars like those above; 

Stars whose living counterparts, 

On the rounds of space and time. 
For their country's spotless cause 

Mount to thought and deed sublime. 
Emblem of the staunch and brave. 

Of the pure and tried and true, 

Service banner bordered red. 

Field of white and stars of blue. 

Can it be? Shore time ago 

Here they played. Yon dusty street 
Felt the impress of their hands 

And their tanned and dimpled feet. 
Now to soldiers grown, they march 

With the stars and stripes unfurled. 
Heroes, knights of liberty 

To a torn and bleeding world. 



at*^r/erf^S-lSusf S^^^ «- ^" '^^ M- E. church 

[34] 



In the years, long, long ago, 

With the freeman's hope and will. 
Our forefathers lit the fires 

On the crest of Bunker Hill. 
And our gallant boys in blue. 

In the service that they gave. 
Turned the tide at Gettysburg, 

Broke the shackles of the slave. 

Now our boys in olive drab. 

Forest green and navy blue. 
Grapple the relentless foe. 

Pierce his serried columns through; 
And the guerdon that they bear. 

Grievous wounds of earth to bind. 
Is a triumph that shall bring 

Liberty to all mankind. 

Glorious day, when war shall end 

And the cannon's roar shall cease; 
When the squadrons leave the sky 

One vast panoply of peace. 
Fears and tears will change to cheers. 

In this humble village fane. 
When the right and God prevail 

And our stars come back again. 



August, 1918. 

[35] 



"ARISE, YE DEAD" * 

"Arise, for home arise." 
Thus spake a vahant son of France, 
And led, defying death and chance, 
But failed to stay the foe's advance. 

Arise, for home arise." 

'Arise, for France arise." 
And at the thought of native land 
Each soldier smote with desperate hand. 
But scarcely brought the foe to stand. 
"Arise, for France arise." 

Arise, for God arise." 
Thus spake a soldier priest. Each gun 
Blazed from the ramparts of Verdun; 
The field was swept— it was not won.' 
"Arise, for God arise." 

"Arise, ye dead, arise." 
Thus spake a poilu, and the cry 
From rank to rank was raised so high 
It shook the earth and rent the sky. 

"Arise, ye dead, arise." 

wSer'nuranty^'Te wflff ^^'^ ''^ ^" '""''«»* reported by 
"It is said thkt in The mon'°"nP°I!'^^"*' «« f°"«w8 : 
wounded Frenchman caHed ntdlv '"' A v" ^°'"" ^l ^/f^"" * 
appeal galvanized into sunremp l^;- ^"'^-^^ ^^^^^ H« 
shattered comrades I atprt?! resistance his wounded and 
French army? and the r%„,^^ message spread through the 
moment wh^A tt selmed''l™toriousr""''' "^' '"^^'^ «* *»>« 

[36] 



The mighty dead arose; 
Back reeled invading armies vast. 
For martyr spirits of the past 
Rode on the withering battle blast — 

The mighty dead arose! 

The dead, invulnerable. 
Above the cannon's wild uproar 
Fought as they never fought before 
And turned the gory tide of war. 

The dead, invincible! 



[37] 



THROUGH LONDON TOWN 

DEDICATED TO THE TWELFTH REGIMENT 
OF RAILWAY ENGINEERS * 

A captive city silent stood 

Beside the river shore. 
While through her streets in splendor passed 

William the Conqueror. 
His knights with sword and shield and spear 

On armored steeds rode down; 
They proudly bore their burnished mail 

And marched through London Town. 

The centuries moved slowly by. 

With years of war and peace; 
They saw the world's metropolis 

In power and fame increase. 
And never echoed through her streets 

The tread of foeman's heel. 
Nor flashed from out her misty light 

The glint of foreign steel; 

Until there burst a fateful storm 

With lightnings red and dire. 
When Attila resurgent came 

And set the world on lire. 



thr7u''^\'^So';'Au^u!t"ir'917 '\ ^'"^ /^"f-^". troops 

that had marched thro,r^h+h» ^P^ ?°''^'^'J «"»«'' t'-ooPs 
William the ct^e^r'^orfnS^o'e^e. t/l ^^e^^s t^foS^^^^^^ "' 

[38] 



The city poured her legions forth. 
The tide of wrath to turn; 

She saw her brave defenders go. 
Their shattered ranks return. 

A shadow on the city fell. 

With pain and grief oppressed; 
And weary eyes sought wistfully 

A sign from out the West; 
When lo ! a thrilling murmur ran, — 

"They come, the men of might. 
To join our ranks, to smite the foe 

And set the world aright." 

A foreign flag and foreign arms 

And soldiers lithe and brown 
Through open gates and open hearts 

Marched into London Town; 
While from the tower above the bridge 

That spans the river's tide. 
The union jack and stars and stripes 

Were floating side by side. 

A mighty multitude acclaimed 

And shook the walls with cheers; 
And some their greetings shouted forth 

And some were touched to tears. 
Uncovered stood the men of state 

Who hold a nation's helm. 
While to the passing pageant bow«d 

The ruler of the realm. 
[39] 



And in those soldier ranks were lads 

Of many racial strains; 
The Saxon, Norse and Celt were there. 

Blent in their Yankee veins. 
And some had ancestors who balked 

A British monarch's will 
With fiery speech at Faneuil Hall 

Or fought at Bunker Hill. 

Forgotten was the ancient feud. 

The strife of vanished years; 
They viewed the nation's gratitude 

With joy akin to tears; 
And this their silent message was: 

"Fciint not, though foes assail; 
Our brothers o'er the sea arise; 

They come; they will not fail. 

"They know your cause and quarrel just. 

They heed your fervent prayers ; 
The millions of America 

Have made your battle theirs. 
They vow the tyrant's rule shall bind 

The states of earth no more. 
That Kaiser William shall not be 

William the conqueror." 

Though this historic march is past, 

The heralds still advance 
And pitch their camps on many a field 

Of desolated France. 
[40] 



On evenings round their frugal fires 

Their varied tales they tell. 
Of voyage fair and weary march 

And trench and bursting shell; 

Of terraced slopes and wooded hills 

And plains where poppies grow. 
Of rivers rushing from their steeps 

Or winding calm and slow; 
Of ruined towns, cathedrals wrecked, 

And cities doomed to fall ; 
And oft they modestly rehearse 

This story dear to all : 

"How glad we were for one brief day 

To let brave England know 
The Yankee lads were on the way 

To help her crush the foe; 
Though ours may be a humble part. 

While others win renown. 
Of freedom's host we led the van 

And marched through London Town." 



1918. 

[41 



AUTUMN LEAVES 
The genial sunlight melts on the hills 

The breath of the morning white and cold; 
By the wayside bend sprays of aster bloom 

And the forest turns to russet and gold. 
A cheery whistle the silence breaks— 

The silence deep of the autumn morn 

There's a rustle of fodder— a song afield— 

There are glowing heaps of the yellow corn. 

On the wooded slopes the tulip trees 

Have raised their banners of amber light. 
While leaves flit out from the arching elms' 

Like goldfinch coveys in downward flight. 
The sugar maple in orange arrayed 

With the aspen blends in a milder hue. 
And a golden glory pervades the earth ' 

To the hills that fade into opal and blue. 

And I say, as I look to the skies above 
^ And the yellow wealth of the year's increase. 
A goodly land and a goodly time 

The fruitful days of a golden peace." 
When lo! at my feet the gum tree throws 

A leaf like the reeking point of a lance. 
And the sumac burns on the hill blood-red 

Like the poppy bloom in the fields of France! 

October, 1918. 

[42] 



WELCOME TO OUR ACE OF ACES* 

Our squadrons no more 

Sail into the fight, 
And our eagles of war 

Turn homeward their flight. 
They have won in the sky 

New laurels of glory; 
Their triumphs on high 
Will live ever in story. 

With the joy of our hearts 

Aglow in our faces. 
We are welcoming home 
Our own ace of aces. 

When the sky raiding foe. 

Through the rack and the gloom. 
Shook the cities below 

With the missiles of doom. 
Up our fleet eagle wheeled 

And the raiding plane shattered, — 
On a shell pitted field 

Its fragments were scattered. 
With the pride of our souls 

Aglow in our faces. 
We are welcoming home 
Our own ace of aces. 



•Captain Edward V. Rickenbacker, of Columbus, Ohio. 

[43] 



Hurrah for our ace. 

He has won for our town 
A name and a place 

By his deeds of renown. 
Hurrah for the eye 

And the nerve ever steady 
And his triumphs on high — 
Three cheers for our Eddie. 
With the love of our hearts 

Aglow in our faces. 
We are welcoming home 
Our own ace of aces. 



[44] 



WELCOME TO TWELFTH REGIMENT 
OF ENGINEERS 

When the RepubHc took the gage 
Of war to save the world aflame. 

Swift as the flash that called to arms 
Your eager answer came. 

Your camp, moored at the Chain of Rocks* 

On yon historic river's shore. 
You left ere summer waned and soon 

Were ocean-bound for war. 

So far you sped your words came back 
Like echoes from enchanted land. 

And you in knightly quest had grown 
To something new and grand. 

We heard the news from far Cambrai, 

Where guns were grasped as shovels fell, 
From Picardy, where your thin line 

Held through the battle hell. 
First honors for the soldier sons 

Who fell where Fame her signet sets, 
And cheers for you who bore the flag 

From London Town to Metz. 
To you our hearts, and through the years 

A nation's gratitude and love. 
While Liberty holds high her torch 

And heaven bends above. 



♦Chain of Rocks. The point on the bank of the Miss- 
issippi River at which the houseboats were moored in which 
the Twelfth lived while in training at Camp Gaillard. 



[45] 



CONVERTED 



I 



He railed at war in the club, on the street; 

In his home, at his work all day; 
In the church where at peace the brethren meet 

And for peace the deacons pray. 

The waste of it all and the wrong of it all 
He saw, and the woe in its wake; 

The embattled hosts that were doomed to fall 
And the hearts that must bleed and break. 

And those who were forging the bolts of death 

Were the vilest of venal men; 
The "militarists" in his blazing breath 

Were blistered again and again. 

Then he called aloud for the end of war 

And the pagan sway of Mars, 
For a peace that should compass the earth once 
more 

And last as the fadeless stars. 

With a conscience clear he banished doubt 

As the sunlight a floating mist. 
While jingoesi he crushed wiith the sweeping shout,— 

"I am proud I'm a pacifist." 

[46] 



II 

Came the stressful days on their leaden feet. 

With their portent grim and vast, 
And the khaki-clad boys were in the street 

On their way to the front at last. 

The serious crowds surged into the halls 

To hear of the great World War, 
And their plaudits echoed from throbbing walls 

At the flights of the orator. 

And the man of peace with the patriots came 

To cheer at the head of the list. 
And the hand that was raised at the Kaiser's name 

Was the fist of the pacifist. 

The cause of the wondrous change that I tell 

Is not in the distance far. 
For the light that shone from his coat lapel 

Was the light of a service star. 



[47] 



MORNING GLORIES 

From the shadows of night they called for the dawn 

In notes that were subtle and clear, 
In a strain of music too exquisite 

For the range of mortal ear. 
From their leafy columns and battlements 

That were moist with the morning dew, 
A call for light and a reveille 

From the bells of their bugles they blew. 

And lo ! up the east in the blush of the rose 

Came the tremulous light of the morn. 
And earth awoke in the fullness of joy 

To welcome the day new-born. 
In color arrayed on trellis and wall 

The heralds stepped into view 
And bravely their passionate greetings poured 

From their bugles of pink, white and blue. 

When up the sky to the throne of light 

They had played the god of day. 
Like spirits elate with a work well done 

They folded their bugles away. — 
Up the quiet valley one autumn night 

Came the hoar mist grim and slow. 
And stilled were the minstrels ; their music no more 

From the bells of their bugles they blow. 

1918. 

[48] 



FRAGRANCE OF APPLE BLOOM 

There is balm in the breath from groves of pine 

And joy is wafted from meadows green; 
There is life on the hills of the fruitful vine 

And bright are the waters between; 
And tropic sweetness pervades the air 

Where the proud palm waves its plume; 
But there's naught so fragrant and naught so fair 

As the orchard of apple bloom. 

Chorus : 

Beautiful vestments of tinted light. 
Wrought in a fairy's loom ; 

Buds of pink and flowers of white. 
Fragrance of apple bloom. 

The skies were blue when she met me there. 

Sweet Maud, with cheek like the buds aglow; 
And bliss supernal was everywhere 

As she answered, "I love you so." 
The skies were deep and the stars were bright. 

And the shadows knew no gloom, 
As we drank the joy of the moonlit night 

In the fragrance of apple bloom. 

In ranks of white stand the orchard trees. 
And petal flecked is the green below; 

[49] 



There's a chorus of birds and a hum of bees 

And the twilight of long ago. 
And the evening star is fair to see 

Where the hills in the distance loom. 
For a sainted spirit comes back to me 

With the fragrance of apple bloom. 



Arbor Day Manual 
of Ohio, 1908. 



[50] 



PREPARE FOR THE HARVEST 

When the sun beyond the forest 

Rises in a cloudless sky. 
And the quiet hills are listening 

To the streams that babble by; 
When the joyous birds are singing 

Hymns of gladness to the spring, — 
Oh, forget not that 'tis morning 

And that time is on the wing. 

Chorus : 

Then prepare for the harvest. 
For the springtime will not stay. 

Sow the seed for the harvest 
Ere the flowers fade away. 

Clover blossoms tint the meadows. 

Lilies nod beside the stream 
Where the willow waves its tresses 

And the crystal waters gleam; 
There is fragrance from the hawthorne 

On each breeze that passes by — 
But the hours are moving onward 

And the tender flowers will die. 

Though the future seem as peaceful 
As the tranquil skies of June, 

[51] 



Clouds will cross the dim horizon — 
Youth is but a transient boon. 

And the sequel of its triumphs 
Coming years eilone can tell — 

In the distance duty beckons ; 

We must bid the past farewell. 

In this life of cloud and sunshine. 

While the morning hours remain, 
Seeds upon the boundless future 

May be sown for joy or pain. 
There are treasurers for the faithful 

Who will labor while they may,- 
They shall harvest with the reapers 

When the spring has passed away. 



May, 1880. 

[52] 



TO A ROBIN 

When the morn of the young year is breaking. 

And bleak winter winds die away, 
When the woodland and meadow are waking 
In the warmth of the lengthening day. 

From the fruit trees that bud round our 
dwelling, 
From the maple that stands near the door. 
Thy song to the still waste is telling 
That snow storms of winter are o'er. 

When Spring decks her green robe with flowers 

And fragrance is wafted around. 
When breezes are freeing white showers 
Of blossoms that float to the ground, 

With the aid of thy mate thou art weaving 

A framework of reeds for thy nest. 
And, whether returning or leaving, 
A murmur of joy swells thy breast. 

When May wears her garland of roses 
And all the glad songsters are here. 
When beauty, perfected, reposes 

And the heralds of Summer appear. 
Though others in music are leading. 

Still I look from my doorway for thee. 
And notice thee tenderly feeding 
Thy young in the old apple tree. 

[53] 



When harvest is slowly departing 

And Summer has finished her crown. 

When the bright August sunlight is darting 

Hot beams on the meadows of brown. 

Thou are gone where the shadows are gliding 

From branches that mingle above. 
And there, with companions abiding. 
Art dreaming of springtime and love. 

When weary of toil or of sorrow 

Or faint from the midsummer heat, 
When oppressed with the thought of the morrow, 
I stray to thy forest retreat. 

In the coolness I rest, and I ponder 

As the world cuid its cares fade away; 
In the freedom of slumber I wander 
In dream of a happier day. 



August, 1879. 

[54] 



"LIFE-EVERLASTING" 

„ l''^?"". these fields of cool October greenness there rises 
out of the earth a low, sturdy weed. Upon the top of this 
weed small white blossoms open as still as stars of frost, 
upon these blossoms lies a fragrance so pure and whole- 
some that the searchmg sense is never cloyed, never satisfied. 
Kears after the blossoms are dried and yellow and the 
leaves are withered and gone, this wholesome fragrance 
lasts. The common people, who often put their hopes into 
their names, call it life-everlasting. Sometimes they make 
themselves pillows of it for its virtue of bringing a quiet 

— James Lane Allen, in "Aftermath." 



The sumac is waving its crimson plume 
And autumn flowers gem the velvet sod ; 

The thickets are purple with aster bloom 
And the wayside yellow with goldenrod. 

The vagrant wind on a matting of grass 
A rustic carpet of color weaves. 

From the crimson and gold of the sassafras 
And the yellow and pink of the maple leaves. 

The sunflower nods by the rippling rill 

And the ironweed blooms in the dewy dell. 

While nods on the slope of the lonely hill 
The life-everlasting, the immortelle. 

Nor ghost of the rose, nor the lily's wraith 
Is seen in the haunts that knew them well. 

But seed of promise and flower of faith. 
The life-everlasting, the immortelle, 

[55] 



AUTUMN AFTERNOON 

In the hazy, lazy autumn afternoon, 

When a dreamy languor wraps the vale and hill 
And the silver brooklet half forgets its tune 

As it twinkles down the hollow calm and still; 
When arrayed in gypsy dress of pink and gold. 

Crest of crimson tint and folds of fading green. 
Stand the woods in tranquil beauty as of old. 

Stretching into vistas dim and opaline; 
When the Year is ripe and mellow it is meet 
Earth should echo,"Peace is blessed; rest is sweet. 

In the hazy, lazy autumn afternoon. 

Stretch in open order weathered shocks of corn. 
And the pumpkins, yellow as the harvest moon. 
Rise among the vines and stubble frayed and 
worn : 
In the genial sunshine yawns the timid quail. 

Where the gorgeous clumps of sassaf rases glow; 
Drowisly the chipmunk chirps from out a rail; 

From the distant forest faintly calls the crow. 
When the Year from fruitful labor turns to rest. 
Balm and bliss are wafted down the vaulted west. 

In the hazy, lazy autumn afternoon. 

Whiffs of dulcet odor from the orchard trees 

Tell of bursting sweets that yield a liquid boon 
For the yellow jackets and the honey bees: 

Now the plodding plowboy and the laughing lass 

156] 



Well may linger here to sip and feast with these. 
As they gather apples scattered in the grziss. 

Better than the fruitage of Hesperides. 
From the hillside comes at times a muffled sound. 
As the nut trees drop their tribute to the ground. 

In the hazy, lazy autumn afternoon. 

Founts of warmth and comfort in my being flow. 
And I little reck that winter will come soon. 

Swathing wood and meadow in a shroud of snow. 
Some would choose for heaven summertime eterne, 

Fragramt with the rose along celestial ways ; 
This might make me happy, but I still would yearn 

For the pensive, quiet Indian summer days: 
For I get a message, never brought by June, 
In the hazy, lazy autumn afternoon. 



1919 

[57] 



ECHO VALE 

Our words and actions never fail 
A sure return as joys or ills; 

This world is all an echo vale 
Between the mute, eternal hills. 

Our life we make a field or fen. 
We fill our days with bliss or bale; 

What we give forth comes back again. 
This world is all an echo vale. 



[58] 



THE VIOLET 

The violet, begemmed with dew 
And bluer than the sky is blue. 
In early spring along Elk Run 
Still blossoms in the morning sun 
And peeps the reeds and grasses through. 

The bluebirds fly as erst they flew. 
To kindred flower and color true. 

And greet, as they for years have done. 
The violet. 

The orchards on the slopes renew 
Their vernal bloom and gently strew 

Their petals downward one by one; 

The birds their matins have begun; 
And all the valley wakes to view 
TTie violet. 



1919 

[59] 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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